Part 28 (2/2)

Earlier, in 1988, John Branca had represented The Rolling Stones' Steel Wheels international tour. When Michael telephoned him one day about a business matter, John mentioned that he would be in Barbados for a week. Michael wanted to know the reason for the trip. When John told him it was for business purposes, Michael became suspicious. He wanted to know what kind of business John had in Barbados. Rather than lie, he told him that he was meeting with Mick. 'Mick? You mean Mick Jagger? Mick Jagger?' Michael wanted to know. He was upset.

John finally admitted that he was representing The Rolling Stones tour. 'Well, is it a big tour?' Michael asked. 'It's not going to be as big as mine, is it? It's not going to be bigger bigger than mine, is it?' than mine, is it?'

There was probably no way to calm Michael down at that point. Next, he wanted to know where the Stones would be playing. When John reluctantly told him they were thinking about the Los Angeles Coliseum, Michael became even more anxious. 'The Coliseum!' he exclaimed. 'The Coliseum! Why, that's bigger than the [Los Angeles] Sports Arena, where I played. How many dates? They're not playing as many dates as me and my brothers played at Dodger Stadium, are they?' He was frantic. The only way to end it with him was for John to beg off the line, saying he had another call.

When John Branca took on Terrence Trent D'Arby as a client, Michael was again upset. He considered D'Arby compet.i.tion, just as he did Prince. Michael asked John to drop D'Arby. John said he would do it if Michael absolutely insisted upon it. However, Michael then telephoned D'Arby, with whom he had never spoken, to let him know that he (Michael) had no control over John Branca, and that if the attorney should ever drop him as a client, it would be entirely his decision because, as Michael told D'Arby, 'I have no problem with Branca representing you.' Actually, Michael was trying to maintain friendly relations with D'Arby in case the two should ever decide to record a duet sometime in the future.

When John Branca found out what Michael had done (Terrence Trent D'Arby's manager telephoned John immediately after D'Arby had hung up with Michael), he was as disappointed in Michael as he was angry. In the end, John decided not not to drop D'Arby as a client; Michael just had to live with it. to drop D'Arby as a client; Michael just had to live with it.

Most observers felt that representing Michael had become more taxing and demanding than ever for John Branca. In the spring of 1990, John and Michael had a meeting during which John said he felt the time had come for him to share in the equity in Jackson's publis.h.i.+ng company. He explained that he wanted to devote as much time to developing Michael's publis.h.i.+ng holdings as possible, and in return he wanted five per cent of those profits. John must have known that it would be risky to make such a proposition because Michael is known to be thrifty when it comes to compensating his repre-sentation. He feels that the occasional Rolls-Royce or expensive watch is a fair demonstration of his appreciation to his advisers; he doesn't favour giving them extra percentages. Up until this time, John had worked for Michael on a monthly retainer. On certain extraordinary deals, a percentage would be worked into the deal for him. For instance, he did receive five per cent of the profit on the Victory and Bad tours. (In contrast, though, Mickey Rudin, Frank Sinatra's attorney for years, received ten per cent of Sinatra's tours.) At this time, Michael was feeling psychologically poor as a result of the Moonwalker Moonwalker debacle. He told John he would consider his proposal. Then, he decided to talk the matter over with David Geffen. debacle. He told John he would consider his proposal. Then, he decided to talk the matter over with David Geffen.

At this same time, David Geffen was trying to convince Michael that he should break his CBS Records deal by utilizing a contract loophole. Michael's contract with CBS had been signed in 1983, and then amended after Thriller Thriller in 1985. David felt that the seven years that had lapsed since the original agreement gave Michael an edge in renegotiating the entire deal because California state law forbids personal service contracts of a longer duration. Industry observers felt that David was trying to lure Michael away from CBS so that he could sign him to his own label. in 1985. David felt that the seven years that had lapsed since the original agreement gave Michael an edge in renegotiating the entire deal because California state law forbids personal service contracts of a longer duration. Industry observers felt that David was trying to lure Michael away from CBS so that he could sign him to his own label.

Though Michael's contract with CBS had expired, he still owed four more alb.u.ms to the label. Yes, after the seven-year duration, Michael could probably have left CBS Records. The company could not enjoin him from recording for another label. However, it could could sue him for damages, the amount of which would be based on the estimated loss of profits from the alb.u.ms he did not deliver. This dollar amount would be derived from the combined sales figures of sue him for damages, the amount of which would be based on the estimated loss of profits from the alb.u.ms he did not deliver. This dollar amount would be derived from the combined sales figures of Off the Wall, Thriller Off the Wall, Thriller and and Bad Bad. CBS Records could have mounted a huge lawsuit against Michael. David was willing to overlook the possible litigation ('It'll all work itself out,' he said), however John Branca was not willing to do so, and he he was the one representing Michael, not David. was the one representing Michael, not David.

When John and David engaged in a heated argument over the logic of trying to extricate Michael from his recording contract with CBS Records, John told him to mind his own business. David hung up on him.

David then telephoned Michael and, apparently, tried to sour him on John Branca by saying that John had been uncooperative, and that the reason Michael didn't have 'a good deal at CBS' was because of John's close relations.h.i.+p with the company president, Walter Yetnikoff. Michael allowed himself to be swayed by David, never stopping to consider that he truly did have the best deal in the record industry and that John Branca was the man who had secured it for him.

John Branca's work with Michael Jackson can only be compared to Colonel Tom Parker's representation of Elvis Presley. Even though John was not Michael's manager, he certainly had the kind of impact on his career that Colonel Tom had on Elvis's. In 1980, when John began representing him, Michael's net worth was barely a million dollars. Ten years later, in great part due to John's negotiating skills, the net worth was close to $300 million, including the publis.h.i.+ng holdings, which were valued at close to $200 million. That leap in holdings was a tribute to Michael's artistry, no doubt; but it also spoke well of John's negotiating skills. Despite all they had been through together, Michael now doubted John.

A couple of days after John's difficult conversation with David Geffen, John met with Michael. Something had changed in Michael, and it became clear as the two of them spoke; Michael barely listened to what John said and he seemed hostile towards him. The two engaged in a heated discussion about CBS and whether or not Michael was obligated to record for them. The meeting did not go well.

When it ended, John went back to his office in Century City. The next day, he received a letter by special messenger from Michael's new accountant, Richard Sherman, whom John had recently hired: John's 'services were no longer required by Michael Jackson.'

Michael was sorry to lose John Branca, but he didn't get sentimental about the loss. The way he looked at it, John made a fortune doing what he loved to do, representing Michael in major show-business deals. When it was over, it was over. Michael swiftly replaced him with three seasoned law veterans: Bertram Fields (for litigation), Alan Grubman (for negotiations with CBS), and Lee Phillips (for music publis.h.i.+ng) all closely a.s.sociated with David Geffen.

In March 1991, Michael Jackson finally came to terms with CBS Records, now known as Sony Corp. The deal was structured on groundwork laid by John Branca including a 25 per cent royalty rate and Jackson's own label (then called Nation Records). Michael's spokespeople claimed that the contract guaranteed a return of hundreds of millions. Press reports implied that Sony actually handed over a billion billion dollars to Michael. In fact, Michael could receive $120 million per alb.u.m for the next six dollars to Michael. In fact, Michael could receive $120 million per alb.u.m for the next six if if sales matched the forty-million-plus level of sales matched the forty-million-plus level of Thriller Thriller. If they didn't, he wouldn't. With advances and financial perks, the deal was worth about fifty million dollars to Michael, nicely eclipsing Janet Jackson's thirty-two-million-dollar contract at Virgin Records.

Where Michael Jackson's career was concerned, the future seemed to rest on the commercial success or failure of his next alb.u.m. That was the case in 1991, and remains so, to this day.

PART NINE.

Michael Meets Jordie Chandler.

May 1992. Imagine Michael Jackson standing on the side of Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard in Beverly Hills, his jeep steaming at the side of the road while other cars whisk by in two busy lanes in both directions. With so little knowledge about automobiles, Michael had always wondered what he would do if he was ever alone when his car broke down. He reached for his mobile phone and called 911. He was told that a disabled automobile did not qualify as an emergency situation, and that he should call Directory a.s.sistance to locate a tow-shop. 'But I'm Michael Jackson,' he protested. 'Can't you help me?' The answer was, 'No.'

As he stood next to the car fretting about his next step, Michael was spotted by the wife of Mel Green, an employee of a nearby car-rental business, called Rent-A-Wreck. She telephoned her husband and said, 'You will not believe who I just spotted on Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard kicking the tyre of his broken-down car. Michael Jackson! You should go there and see what's up.'

Mel Green raced to the scene and, sure enough, there he was: Michael Jackson wringing his hands, pacing back and forth and kicking the tyres of his vehicle. 'I got him,' Mel said, calling Dave Schwartz, owner of Rent-A-Wreck.

'What? You gotta be kidding me?' said Dave. 'Is it really Michael Jackson? Are you sure? Maybe he's one of those wacky impersonators. It can't be the the Michael Jackson.' Michael Jackson.'

'It sure is,' Mel said. 'I'm bringing him in, now.'

'Then I gotta call June,' Dave said, now excited. Dave and his wife, June, had been having marital difficulties and, more often than not, he was not staying at their home, although they were still on friendly terms. He called June and told her to bring her son Jordie to 'the shop' for 'a big surprise'.

June and Jordie arrived on the scene before Michael. When Michael finally showed, he presented quite a sight wearing a black turban with a veil over his face and dark, over-sized sungla.s.ses. He also wore a long-sleeve black silk s.h.i.+rt, jeans and tennis shoes. The only parts of his body visible were his hands, which seemed pale.

Whenever June Chandler-Schwartz walked into a room, heads turned. A striking woman of Asian extraction, she wore her dark hair to her shoulders with bangs cut straight above her eye line. Her smile incandescent, her manner outgoing, she moved with elegance and grace. Michael was quickly taken by her as she excitedly introduced herself and then Jordie.

Actually, Jordie had seen Michael on several occasions over the years, the first time being at a restaurant in Los Angeles when he was about four. The young boy didn't approach Michael, of course, but instead gawked at him while the entertainer ate his food.

That same year, 1984, was the year Michael was burned filming the Pepsi commercial. Like thousands of fans, Jordie still just four sent a letter and picture of himself to the Brotman Memorial Hospital where Michael was recovering. He included his telephone number in the note. Two days later, much to his parents' excitement, Michael called Jordie to thank him for the note, and to also tell him that he thought he was 'a beautiful young boy'.

In 1989, when Jordie was nine, Michael's manager Frank Dileo contacted Jordie's mother to ask if she and her family would like four tickets to see Michael in concert in Los Angeles. Of course, she accepted. They enjoyed the show but, though they attempted to do so, did not meet with Michael backstage after the concert. As the years went on, Jordie continued with his adolescent fan-wors.h.i.+p of Michael Jackson.

In the spring of 1992, Jordie got the idea for a spoof of Kevin Costner's film, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which he called Robin Hood: Men in Tights Robin Hood: Men in Tights. For a twelve-year-old, he was amazingly creative. Jordie and his father, Evan, wrote the script (along with Evan's friend, J. D. Shapiro) and with the help of some of Evan's show-business friends, father and son actually got their script produced into a major movie. Though the movie, produced by Mel Brooks, was not a commercial success, the youngster had two more ideas in mind and was working with his father on them. To young Jordie Chandler, it seemed as if almost anything was possible. Now, he was face to face with his idol, the so-called 'King of Pop'.

Jordie was dark-haired with big, luminescent eyes. He was on the verge of manhood, but certainly not there yet. His face was lean and angular, its raw-boned sharpness softened by its olive complexion. Anyone looking at him would say, 'That kid is going to be stunning in about ten years.' However, standing before Michael, he was just a boy with a big smile on his face.

June wrote down a telephone number and handed it to Michael. 'You should call Jordie sometime,' she suggested, as if the notion of a twelve-year-old being 'friends' with a thirty-three-year-old pop star was the most natural thing in the world.

'Mom!' Jordie protested, embarra.s.sed.

'No, Jordie,' she said, according to a later recollection from, Jordie. 'You guys can be friends.'

'For sure,' Dave Schwartz said as he walked into the room. 'Give him a call, Michael. He's your biggest fan.'

'Yeah, okay,' Michael said as he signed the final paperwork for the rental car. He took the paper from June and stuffed it in his pocket. Michael then looked over his gla.s.ses and took in the twelve-year-old. 'So, look, I'll call you, Jordie,' he said. 'Okay?'

'Sure,' the youngster answered. He flashed a dazzling smile at the singer. 'Oh, boy!'

'Yeah,' Michael exclaimed, seemed tickled by the youngster's enthusiasm. 'Oh, boy!' he repeated.

Have You Seen His Childhood?

Of course, Michael Jackson had long a.s.sociated himself with children, regularly visiting with ill children on his concert tours and inviting underprivileged youths to tour his ranch. His philanthropic activities, including those executed by his Heal the World Foundation, were well known. In the past, Michael had often been seen in the company of young celebrities, such as Emmanuel Lewis and McCauley Culkin, as well as with many youngsters who are not famous, which was why Jordie's mother and stepfather saw nothing unusual about encouraging a friends.h.i.+p between the pop star and their son.

'One of my favourite pastimes is being with children,' Michael had explained in an interview, 'talking to them and playing with them. Children know a lot of secrets and it is difficult to get them to tell. Children are incredible. They go through a brilliant phase, but then when they reach a certain age, they lose it. My most creative moments have almost always come when I am with children. When I am with them, the music comes to me as easily as breathing. When I'm tired or bored, children revive me. Two brown eyes look at me so profoundly, so innocently, and I murmur, This child is a song.'

In the early nineties Michael Jackson's interest in children was viewed by most quarters where it was known about as odd, but not necessarily inappropriate.

Michael was thought of as not only a virgin, but as.e.xual. He was viewed as 'damaged goods', a brilliant entertainer who gave his all to his work because he had no personal life in which to find satisfaction. No one believed he actually had romances with girls like Tatum O'Neal or Brooke s.h.i.+elds, no matter how much he insisted that such affairs of the heart had taken place in his life. Mostly, where Michael's personal life was concerned, one felt a sense of sadness about it. He was an oddity, a brilliant performer and legendary recording artist whose image was perplexing and eccentric, but not s.e.xual. Even when he grabbed his crotch during his performances, the action didn't have a s.e.xual connotation to it as much as it did the imprint of another clever bit of ch.o.r.eography. Then, of course, there was all of that business about his 'lost childhood'...

'He's a man who has never had a childhood,' Bert Fields, one of Michael's attorneys, explained to me as if I wasn't aware of Michael's background. 'So he's having his childhood now, you see? His friends are little kids. They have pillow fights. It's all innocent.'

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